


Family

by tzy



Category: Near Dark (1987)
Genre: 1930s, F/M, Gen, Vampires, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzy/pseuds/tzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Diamondback picked Jesse up by the side of the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeCarabas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCarabas/gifts).



The road stretched out long and thin in front of the car, the center lines flashing by hypnotically. The sun had slid down behind her not thirty minutes ago, and the night crowded around the sides of the road, kept at bay by the headlamps on the forest green Hudson Essex Terraplane she'd stolen in Bakersfield. It was fast—Coral in the joint had said Dillinger drove one before he got smoked—and it had a brand new genuine Motorola radio installed. Staticky, tinkly piano music played over the rumble of the engine and the hum of the tires on the asphalt.

She lit a Chesterfield with one hand and tucked the silver lighter back into her cheap blue patent leather pocketbook, next to the Colt .38 revolver and the packet of crisp onionskin letters, all from her ma except for the last. She sucked the smoke deep into her lungs and let it burn there for a moment before exhaling. Her scalp still itched from the beauty parlor. Platinum blonde, like Jean Harlow, with a Marcel wave. It was murder on her hair, but she didn't care. She wasn't thinking about much of anything except driving as far as she could before the cops caught up with her. The new hair and the new car might buy her a couple of days. 

She patted her thigh reassuring the butterfly knife she'd tucked in her garter was still there. 

 

***

_She'd had a week left on her sentence when the letter came. Battered and tore up and stained with what was probably rotgut whiskey. Loy wouldn't spring for the good stuff, even with Prohibition finally over._

> "Hey there little Di," _the letter began in wobbly scrawling script._ "I guess you gettin out soon. I am writing to tell you your Ma fell sick and has past on in to heaven to rest in the arms of Jesus like she prayed for.  
>  I hope you will take this oppertinity to let bygones be bygones and put all the bad blood that was between you an me behind us, just like your sweet old Ma always wanted.  
>  Your lovin Daddy, Loyal" 

_She crumpled the thin paper in her fist. Ma had written a year back, all full of prayers and tears about losing the farm and going on about how they were headed to California where Loy had some kind of job lined up. She'd been real excited about eating oranges right from the tree. She was going to make Di a whole pitcher of fresh orange juice and they were going to drink it right on the ocean when Di got out, she said. Losing the farm was going to be a blessing in disguise, she said. An opportunity for a new start._

_The next letter from Ma had been about Tommy's death. She said it was a tragic accident and the will of God who works in His mysterious ways. Di knew it'd been Loy. She'd told Tommy to keep his head down, but he'd always been stubborn. Loy hated him for being stubborn, and for looking like their daddy. Their real daddy._

_"Damn honey, you don't look so keen." Di had blinked and looked up at the words. Coral from the laundry crew. Her hands were cracked and rough and looked twenty years older than they should from running the mangle. Her dark hair was pulled back, revealing the port wine stain she usually liked to hide behind a set of crisp spit-curls. "Don't you get your walking papers on Thursday? Nothing'd make me glum if I knew I could be heading out for some good old fashioned Friday night fun times this week." She nudged Di and grinned. "C'mon, what're you gonna do when you get out?"_

_Di started to throw the letter in the trash can at the end of the table, but stopped. She took the envelope and looked at the return address. "I'll have me some fun," she said. "I think I'll start by looking up my step-daddy and giving him what I should've given him years back."_

 

***

 

The fella stood by the side of the road, silhouetted by the yellow glow from his car's headlamps. He was so still, at first she thought he wasn't a man at all, but a scarecrow instead. Or a signpost caught with a trick of the eye. Then he stuck out his thumb, slow and deliberate, like he knew she was going to stop for him before she she actually did. 

He was lanky and rough-looking; he was six feet of bad idea in a grimy duster. She pulled her pocketbook close with a shiver when he opened the passenger door and stuck his head in. "Flat tire," he said, nodding towards his car. "Trouble you for a lift into town?"

She tilted her head. "Suppose I say yes. You don't have anyone hiding ready to jump in and take advantage of my generosity?"

He grinned, showing his teeth. "Naw. Just me." 

A cool thrill zipped through her veins. She'd probably be dead or back in the joint in a few days anyway. Not the work farm, neither, with its shorthand classes and picture shows for good behavior. The Big House, with a short trip to the hangman's noose in her future. And he was a _man_. You get to missing certain things when you've been on the farm for three years. Besides, if he got mean on her, she always had her .38. Or the knife.

"Well in that case," she said, patting the seat beside her. "Hop on in."

He climbed in with a nimble grace she wouldn't have guessed he had. "Jesse," he said, gesturing to himself. He looked at her like he was thinking real hard on a problem. 

"As in 'James'," she asked, arching her back a little.

"Somethin' like that."

"Folks call me Di," she said, her mouth crooking into a half-smile. "My Daddy called me his little diamondback rattler ever since I got my first teeth. Said Ma was lucky I wasn't an asp and she wasn't Cleopatra. Guess I was a biter."

He laughed, a deep, smokey, warm sound. "Sounds like my kind of lady."

It wasn't much farther to town—a tiny little cluster of low buildings nestled together in the parched desert. There was a motel, a filling station that doubled up as a general store and a post office, a church, and two bars. Of course he asked her—polite as can be, but with a tone that said he knew she'd say yes—if he could buy her a drink as payment for the ride. 

Of course she said yes.

 

***

_She'd hopped a bus straight to Los Angeles the same night she got her release. Loy had already skipped out on the rent, but the old lunger who managed the ratty shithole of an apartment said he'd liked to play the ponies, and he might have a new lady friend who was going to be an actress in the pictures. She had a place across town. For two bucks, he gave her the address._

_"She was a nice lady, your ma," he'd told her, coughing into his well used handkerchief. "Real shame. I woulda gone to the funeral and paid my respects, but your pa said he'd leave her for the city to take care of." He tsked. "They wait a while to see if anyone claims 'em, then they dump 'em in a potter's field."_

_She frowned and clenched her fist. "He ain't my pa," she said._

_It had taken some planning. She'd had to take a room in a ladies' boarding house while she got some money together. Enough to buy a gun. She'd watched his place for days. The actress was younger than Di was. She had carrot red hair and a sour face. Maybe it played better in black and white._

_Loy spent most of his time at the track, or at the bar down the road from their building. Sometimes, when he hit on a pony, he'd purchase a few bottles of whiskey and stay home all day, drinking._

_It was one of those days. The actress went out for another hopeless string of auditions. Di waited until she'd gone, then went up to the building. It was one of those red and white spanish style buildings with a courtyard, so she didn't have to worry about getting past a doorman. All she had to do was pick the lock. A skill Loy himself had taught her._

 

***

 

After far too many drinks and a slow dance at the juke joint, things started to get muddled. They ended up out in a field behind the juke, lying on the roof of the Terraplane, watching the heavy orange moon lope across the night sky. It seemed to her the moon was staring right back down at them, red-faced, as if it were embarrassed to witness such a private moment.

They talked about things she never thought to put into words. About her step-daddy, and what he done to her and her ma and her sweet baby brother. About not having any family left in the whole wide world. About getting pinched for check kiting and the cops finding the crates of contraband liquor in her truck, and wasn't it just some kinda funny joke, Prohibition getting repealed while she was serving out her sentence?

When Jesse finally kissed her, it was a gentleman's kiss—old fashioned and closed-mouth. When he bit her and licked the blood from her throat, she sighed and welcomed it. He carried her back to the motel in his arms like a bride. He slid his hand under her skirt and felt the knife she had waiting there, and he smiled.

That night, she dreamed shadowy, dark dreams overseen by the unblinking red eye of the autumn moon. 

 

She awoke to the sounds of arguing. The room was still dark except for the yellow glow from a lamp on the desk. Her tongue was dry cotton and her head was splitting. She was very thirsty.

"God dammit Jesse, ain't we been all right on our own for sixty fuckin' years? Now you gotta go dizzy over some dame?" 

"Don't balk me on this one, Severen."

"Shit. What's the old man gonna say?"

"Let me handle the old man. Might be he'd come out more with a woman around."

"Shhh—she's awake."

She rolled over and sat up. Her pocketbook and shoes were on the floor by the bed. Jesse and a younger man with slick hair and a shiny suit were in the corner by the bathroom. Jesse smiled. 

"I- I guess I'll be movin' on," she said as she reached for her pocketbook. Jesse was all right, and she wouldn't have minded sticking around a while with him. But she hadn't counted on his slick friend. 

"Might want to rethink that kitten," the slick fella said, taking a step towards her. 

"Severen," Jesse said. His tone made the other guy back down and cast his eyes at Jesse like a dog that's been caught stealing from the table. 

"I got places to be," Di said, holding her bag close. She could feel the gun still there, where she'd left it. She took hold of the door handle and turned. A sliver of sunlight shot through the room, blinding her. She shrieked and fell back, dropping her shoes and bag. Her arm was on fire, like someone had thrown gasoline and lit a match. 

Severen slammed the door shut. "God damn it," he shouted. 

Jesse grabbed her and threw a blanket over her arm. "Shhh," he said, cradling her against his chest. "Shhh. You're all right. Shhh." He patted her arm. "See?" She looked. Her arm was covered with black, flaking burnt skin, but underneath the skin was pink and fresh. It didn't even hurt anymore. "It's almost sundown," Jesse said, stroking her back like you'd soothe a cat. "Stick with us and you'll be all right. We can be a family."

 

***

 

_Loy'd been nearly passed out in a filthy overstuffed pea green chair when she opened the door. He had a bottle in one hand. The room had a sharp smell of sweat and rotten fruit, and dust motes floated and danced in the light from the grimy window. He rolled his head to look at her. "Little D-" he gasped, then he broke off, coughing violently. "Din't expect to see you," he finally got out._

_She shrugged and pulled out her brand new gun._

_"Hey now. Hey don't do that baby girl," Loy said, sitting up in his chair. "Let's not get carried away." He rubbed his palm over his rough doughy cheek. "Is this about that job? I told ya just to drive straight on through, and not to stop for nothin'. But you had to go on an' try passing that fool check. Wasn't my fault. My guy was waiting with the money for those damned liquor crates."_

_"This ain't about the job," she said. "Where are Ma and Tommy buried?" she asked, feigning innocence._

_He paled. "C'mon now honey, you can't be blaming me for that! Tommy had an accident. Tragic," he said, shaking his head. "And your ma made herself sick in the head after with all her praying and carrying on. You know how she could get. Remember? Remember you used t'come out to my shed when she was all fired up after a sermon and beg me to show you how to pick a lock or shoot a- a-" he stammered and frowned, then took a long pull off his whiskey bottle. "You'd ask to play with my knife, remember? The folding one I got in the merchant marine. I got it here, see?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife. He held it flat in his palm for a moment, then set it on the arm of his chair. "I never did nothing to harm a hair. Not a hair."_

_She laughed, short and bitter. Maybe he even believed his own words. "That wasn't all you taught me in the shed," she said, tight and cool. "Remember?"_

_"Have a heart for your old daddy?" he asked. He held out his arms weakly. "We're family. All we got left."_

_"I don't have any family," she said. Then she shot him._

 

***

 

Four nights later, she was feeling thirsty. Jesse had taught her what she had to do. It wasn't easy, the first time, but sometimes you had to do hard things to survive. She knew that. 

They'd been driving on the dirt road for what seemed like hours. It got progressively rougher as they drove. Ruts became deep chasms and pebbles became stones the size of her head. Trees hung with ghostly moss brushed Severen's truck, and she could hear every living thing in the deep darkness of the swampy forest. 

"Came through here after the war, on my way home," Jesse said. "Hasn't changed much."

They kept going until the trees gave way to open fields, left fallow and grown wild. They drove on, through two rows of live oaks. At the end of the road was the house, an enormous pillared box that had once been white. 

"Didn't look too different when I came across it the first time," Jesse said. "It was growin' dark, and I figured I'd take myself a rest in this old abandoned plantation." He chuckled. "Turned out, it wasn't abandoned."

Inside, the house was filled with furniture all covered with sheets. Everything had a thick layer of dust. There were paths of small footprints in the dust, like a schoolyard after a snowfall.

"Hey old man," Jesse yelled. "We've come to fetch you!"

"Come out, come out!" Severen shouted. "Olly olly oxen free!" He smacked a table and sent up a massive cloud of dust.

"I found him in the cellar," Jesse said. "I guess his mama had been the one who made him like us. But then she went out one night and never came back. Soldiers probably got her. He was barely alive. Still managed to nip me." Jesse grinned at the memory. "Spent some time bringing folks back for him, until I started hearing tales about how this place was cursed and haunted. Figured it was time to move on then. We did all right for a while, found Severen and had some fun times. Then the old man decides it's been long enough, nobody could remember the old tales, and he wants to go home."

"How old is he?" she asked.

"That depends on what you measure age by," a voice said from under the table. A moment later, a boy who looked to be about ten emerged, his long hair all tangled and filled with dust. He brushed the dust from his threadbare old-fashioned waistcoat. "Homer," he said, extending a hand with a formal gesture. "I suppose I should say, 'Welcome to our family'."

"Di- Diamondback," she said, holding back a smile as she shook his hand. Homer bowed his head. He was old, she knew, but he looked so young, like a child putting on his grandfather's old clothes and playing at being an adult. 

"Do you know any card games?" Homer said abruptly.

"Like poker? Or cribbage?" 

He sighed. "No one plays whist anymore." 

Jesse barked a laugh. "You never played whist in your life," he said. "It was an old woman's game before you were ever born. Stop teasing the nice lady." 

Homer smiled. "All right. I guess she is sort of my new granddaughter and all." His voice cracked on the last word.

"We're getting you out of this damned tomb of a house, old man," Jesse said. "You know you can't stay here. It's not safe."

"So you bring me a new mama and think I'll just go along?" Homer snapped.

Jesse threw up his hands, exasperated. 

Diamondback shook her head. "I ain't your new mama," she said. "Nobody could be, because your mama's gone."

Homer glared at her. "Don't say that," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't you say that."

"Not saying it don't make it not true," Jesse said. "You know it. You know it's time." He held Homer's gaze.

Homer finally blinked away and shrugged, and in that moment all of the uncanny age left his eyes. He looked like a lost and confused child. "Um. I got a bicycle on the porch," he said to Diamondback. "You want to watch me ride it?" 

Jesse nodded at her over the boy's head. "Sure, that sounds swell," she said. 

Outside in the thick muggy heat the air was filled with the sounds of insects chirping as they lived and died. Homer pedaled around the yard in a lazy circle while Diamondback sat on the steps. After a time, he pulled to a stop in front of her. "Are you really some kind of nice lady?" he asked.

She slowly shook her head. "Nope. I'm not nice at all," she said.

He nodded. "Good. I guess we can be a family." He pushed off and pedaled faster than any normal boy could, whooping and shouting as he went. "We're gonna have so much fun!"


End file.
